the what ifs will destroy you
by fabricated fantasies
Summary: The only thing that stays with you forever is regret. - the nextgen in a hundred different ways. /PansyTeddy - "Sometimes he looks at the blonde woman in his bed and wishes that all those teen romance novels had never lied to him."
1. LilyScorpius

**a/n: **These drabbles are a random collection; some of them are for PrincessPearl's challenge on the NextGen Fanatics Forum, some of them are from Drabble Tag on the same forum, and some of them are just randomly inspired drabbles. If they're from the challenge or from Drabble Tag, there'll be a note above the drabble to say so. There might be some slash, femslash or cousincest in here, but I will put a warning along with the note to let you know!

I hope you enjoy them!

[and for future reference, I adore it when people give me feedback on my work =)]

For Rhie, because I've never written her a LilyScorpius before.

* * *

_dance_

orange coconut ;; LilyScorpius ;; swirl, envelope, glamour

* * *

She turns in his arms, her long, pastel blue skirt twirling as she does, her slightly freckled face smiling up at her dance partner as they move smoothly through the steps of the dance. He spins her again, watching the swirl of her skirt as it flares away from her body, revealing a hint of pale skin that had previously been hidden beneath the fabric.

His hand reaches out to clasp hers, leading her into the next series of steps as the other couples that surround them do the same. A glint in the partial darkness catches her eye, and she turns her head to see her cousin Dominique dance in the arms of her new husband, a silver and pearl tiara adorning her head. Her smile widens slightly as she revels in the glamour of being the Maid of Honour in what could possibly be the biggest social event of the year.

The song ends, and he presses a soft kiss to her lips as they prepare to part from each other, a kiss that tastes like lavender and lemons and the orange and coconut drinks they had on a beach long ago when they kissed for the first time.

"Save another dance for me?" Lily asks with yet another of her endless sunshine smiles, and he nods, his eyes already focused on something behind her. As the Best Man at this wedding, he has to mingle with the crowd, just like she does, though she wishes that he didn't have to leave her alone to do so.

Oh, because they might have gotten together on a whim, after a few of those tropical drinks that make anything seem like a good idea, and they might have stayed together because she didn't want to be alone if she could avoid it, but she's always treated their relationship like it means something, even though he's never been committed to the thought of them.

Scorpius slips an arm around her waist oh so briefly, his hand brushing gently against the hidden pocket of her long dress, and then he's gone, melding with the rest of the crowd as they sway to the tune of the next song. She waves at his back as one of the other groomsmen approaches her for a dance, and she happily accepts as she waits for her next dance with Scorpius.

She doesn't discover the tiny envelope that he slipped into the hidden pocket of her dress until most of the guests have gone home. She opens it and scans the letter inside, her eyes burning into the parchment with that famous fire.

And then she's standing in the middle of an empty ballroom, a single tear running down her cheek as his harsh words repeat over and over in her head until she feels like she might stop breathing.

'_I can't love you, and there's someone else.'_


	2. AlbusOCJames

**a/n **the second drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_gravity_

coconut bay ;; jamesocalbus ;; gravity, illustrious, mellow

* * *

When he sees her standing there, her eyes like molten chocolate lifted to the blueblue sky, it's like time freezes and gravity stops working and they are the only two people in the world. And when she turns around to smile at him, a quick flash of the eyes and lips, her hair whipping around her in the soft breeze like a sand-coloured cloud that perfectly matches the sand beneath their feet, he's completely and utterly under her spell once again.

It's a perfectly normal, sunny afternoon, the cheers of the Quidditch fans floating in the breeze around this small bay where they have chosen to have this match. A friendly match, one devised between the Tornadoes and the Magpies after their respective captains got drunk and challenged each other to a match played above water. His eyes drift away from the girl to the six wizards struggling to levitate the heavy brass loops that pass for goal rings, to a pretty girl sipping from a coconut, to the flash of the golden snitch as it passes between his fingertips and he has to resist the urge to catch it.

His eyes drift back to her, and this time she turns around and waves at him, with a smile on her face that's so endearing that he can't resist waving back. She walks over to him then, and the expression on her face is so sweet and innocent that he can't believe that _this _girl is dating James Potter, who is likely the least innocent person on the planet.

"Hey Aria," he greets, hoping that the sappy smile, the one that pastes itself on his face when she's around, has disappeared, because that would be a dead giveaway about the turbulent emotions that swirl and dip and rage beneath the surface of his skin.

"Hey Albus," she says in return, standing just a little too close to him and turning her head slightly in order to watch two distant Chasers from opposing teams battle it out over the Quaffle. One of them, he realises with a start, is James, Albus' brother – and Aria's boyfriend.

And this could be his perfect moment, just the two of them alone – except for all the other Quidditch fans, of course – with James unable to reach them in time, if Albus went ahead with the half-formed plan in his head.

But he's the just mellow, friendly little brother who rarely goes after what he wants if it hurts his family, and what is he when compared to James, the striking, illustrious, oh-so-famous older brother with a Gryffindor heart?

So Albus decides to simply wait until James gets bored with her - as he inevitably will - and he'll stick around to pick up the pieces of this girl who is far too sweet for her own good, and put her back together again.


	3. Molly & Lucy

**a/n **the third drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_gravity_

baked alaska;; molly, lucy hotel & luxury

* * *

"Come away with me, Molly," Lucy says to her on one lonely winter day, when the rain pours fiercely outside, beating against the side of the apartment like a steady drumbeat. "We could go on an adventure." Her eyes are bright with the thrill of imagination as she thinks about all the places they could go, all the people they could meet and all the beautiful things they could see, together.

And so the two sisters, all of seventeen and nineteen years of age, set off on an adventure, starting with a series of Apparitions that aren't exactly legal – Lucy didn't bother getting permission from the Ministry – until they land in a frosty expanse of woodland, where the trees drip ice like a strawberry drips melted chocolate.

Lucy insists that they explore the area until there is nothing new left to see, and Molly acquiesces reluctantly, hugging her thin cardigan to her as the cold wind whips her bright red hair, tying it in knots that are next to impossible to undo. And they walk here and there and everywhere until the wind stirs just a little too ferociously, and snowflakes the size of Lucy's hand start floating to the ground in a thick slush of ice.

Lucy takes Molly's frozen hand and they run to the nearest shelter to hide until the snowstorm goes away, quite forgetting the backpack full of water and food and all the other things necessary to wait out a snowstorm.

And so they hide for hours on end, until their throats are bone dry and baked from the lack of water and the heat of the stifling, tiny cave; until all Molly can think about is a luxury hotel overlooking the water, with anything she wants instantly at her disposal. She'd be happy to have an adventure there.

And when the snowfall outside finally stops, a dreamer-girl and an actress step outside, and link hands to go home. It is only once they are standing outside their apartment once again, Molly a little colder and more irritated than before, and Lucy still calm and serene, that they speak at all.

"Lucy?" Molly asks, her lips cracked and her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and her sister turns to her, her eyes still a little bit brighter than they should be. "Next time you ask me to go on an adventure, remind me to say no."


	4. DominiqueLorcan

**a/n **the fourth drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_of dreamers and princesses_

french vanilla ;; dominiquelorcan ;; foam, glitter, mercy

* * *

Dominique's always been the girl who stands apart. She's no vanilla ice-cream girl who blends into the background – she's the shineshineglitter girl who commands attention from absolutely everyone.

And oh, she always thought she'd fall for someone who is loved and hated in turns, just like she is, a veritable frozen Prince who would love this ice princess persona that has melded with her heart and soul.

Never did she think she would fall for a dreamer boy with his eyes full of stars.

Oh, but this dreamer boy of hers – well, she wants him, so he's hers – only sees the soft side of her, the one she thought she'd buried under layers and layers of skin and lies and half-truths that hurt no one but herself.

And Dominique just floats along like sea-foam on a crystalline ocean, coasting on this sudden outpouring of emotion from a heart that tries too hard not to care, until she decides what to do about it. So until that moment of decision comes, she'll teach him how to speak French, and he'll teach her to see patterns in the stars, and that ice-cold heart of hers will melt a little more.

In the end, however much she cries out for mercy from this alien that has taken over her heart, she can't let him go.

And so the story of dreamer boy and princess girl begins.


	5. VictoireOC

**a/n** the fifth drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_the secret of us_

cozy fire ;; VictoireOC

* * *

When she's alone, she thinks about The Secret.

It's a secret that started out innocently at first, like a bird that has just left the nest, or a little girl who has promised to never tell anyone her secret.

"You can't tell anyone that you're magic," her mum tells her at a very young age, a couple of days before she meets Carter Thompson. "It's a secret."

These ten words are very important to her, because Carter _isn't _magic, and although she wants to tell her new best friend everything, her six year old heart won't let her, because she promised she wouldn't tell. But it doesn't matter now, anyway, because they're young and light and above suspicion, and it's perfectly normal for her to talk about gold unicorns.

Then they grow up and turn seventeen, then eighteen and nineteen and twenty, and suddenly The Secret is very important; they might be going out (married, almost), but how can he really love her when she hasn't told him about that part of her that shapes her soul? But her worries and doubts and thoughts of telling him now dissolve when he smiles so freely and happily at her, and kisses her with so much passion that it's almost like _magic_.

And then The Secret is joined by another secret, one that curls around in her stomach like a cat, all cozy and warm and snuggled up in there. And although this new secret is still very small, she thinks it has red hair like fire (just like her dad) and eyes like golden starshine (just like Carter) – a perfect blend of their two sides.

And oh, this secret is _magic_, and she still hasn't told him the first secret, the one she should have told him long before this, because he deserved to know back then.

She's hidden it for far too long, and he'll accuse her of keeping secrets -because she has- and not trusting him, and there's just too many things to say and think and feel. And how do you tell a secret like this?

But she loves her magic baby, who will one day wear robes of Ravenclaw blue and carry a wand, and she's never-ever-ever giving her baby up. Even if he is magic, and is part of a secret kept too long, and might bring an ending to Victoire-and-Carter.

Because he is hers, and part of her, and besides, Victoire Weasley has a secret:

_She's magic too._


	6. RoxanneLysander

**a/n **the sixth drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

I see Roxanne as being about eleven, here, while Lysander and Molly are both eight.

* * *

_christmas_

christmas cookie ;; RoxanneLysander ;; crystal, reindeer, psychic

* * *

Two children dash around the corner, a large plate of cookies held precariously between them as they run through the snow.

"They're mine, Lysander!" the girl exclaims, the elder of the two by three years. Her dark hair is held away from her face in two braids, soft wisps of hair escaping from the plaits to cover her forehead, and her brown eyes shine with a defiant light as she looks down at the boy, who is trying to grab the plate of cookies for himself.

"Grandma Molly _said_ I could have them!" the boy whines, brushing his pale blonde hair away from his face with a sticky hand.

"But I _made_ them, Lysander!" she says adamantly, pulling a cookie off the plate and taking a bit that's a little too big for her small mouth, watching the boy's sulky face the whole time. She pulls the plate out of his slightly loosened grasp, clutching it awkwardly to herself as if it's worth everything. She frowns at his expression, reluctantly taking a small cookie off the plate and holding it out to him. Though she is silent, her intent is crystal clear, and Lysander grabs the cookie with a glue covered hand and swallows it almost completely whole.

"Roxy? Sander?" a voice calls out, and the two children look at each other with something akin to fear.

"We can't let Molly find us!" Lysander exclaims in a whisper, looking around for someplace to hide. "She'll make us dress up as reindeer again for her stupid Christmas play," he adds, frowning deeply. Molly might be his best friend, besides Lysander, but after three years of doing the same play every year he was sick of playing Rudolph.

"I am _not_ being Prancer again," Roxanne says, in complete agreement with him, for once. They both scan the area for a place to hide, and when her eyes alight on the treehouse, hidden way up in the canopy of leafy green trees covered with icicles and snow, she exclaims in quiet excitement and dashes towards it, quite forgetting about the little boy beside her.

He rushes to keep up with her, his short eight-year-old legs struggling to keep up with her much longer ones, but both of them reach the rope ladder hanging alongside the tree trunk. They scramble up it, Roxanne attempting to keep the cookies from falling over the side and increasing the pace when they hear Molly still calling for them.

And then they finally reach the treehouse and climb inside it, a boy and a girl and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies hiding from a pair of rubber reindeers masks, way up in the air where the trees touch the sky.


	7. RoseTeddyVictoire

**a/n **the seventh drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_torn_

vanilla cinnamon ;; RoseTeddyVictoire ;; half the sky, pebbles, crushed

* * *

He falls in love at fifteen, for a girl who has never seemed to look at him with anything more than friendship in her eyes, a girl with pale blonde hair who lights up the world with her smile.

He falls in love again at seventeen, for a cynical dreamer with hair like fire and eyes made of dreams, a girl with a voice that makes angels stop breathing.

But he never quite forgets his love for the first girl, his first love, however much he loves this other girl who calls herself Rose.

And so the Metamorphagus boy asks the singer girl on a date, and one date leads to two, which leads to three, and suddenly he's pushing her against the cold stone wall, tasting the vanilla flavour of her lips as the sky goes dark around them.

He graduates first, and then her, and they live comfortably together in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of a village for almost a year before he asks her to marry him.

Because oh, he's just this sweet impulsive boy who was always destined to be torn, and she's just this little girl who loves him with all her heart, but he's determined to give himself a chance to love her, even if it all ends in tears and heartbreak and not knowing who to choose.

_She_ approaches him shortly after his engagement, this other girl with skin like porcelain and eyes like blue-hot stars, she who has been his best friend from childhood and has loved him from afar.

"You don't have to go through with it, you know," she says to him, her blue eyes pleading and just a little bit heartbroken, and he doesn't understand why she couldn't have loved him at fifteen, when they were both young and free. She's giving him this chance _now_, when he's supposed to be getting married to a girl he can only give half of himself to.

And his head is swirling and his heart is being ripped in two, because he loved Victoire first, but he loved Rose last, and they're twisting together until he can't separate them, for they are both so similar, all sweet vanilla and sharp cinnamon, these two girls who are happy to love him as he is. They each hold half the sky in their hands, and half his heart, for they have the world at their fingertips and a blue-haired boy caught between them.

He runs away from love at twenty-six, from two girls with blue eyes like starshine, because oh, he's always been impulsive and he's never really known who to choose, so he doesn't.

* * *

I had a lot of trouble with this drabble, as you can see, so I'd really appreciate some feedback. Please?


	8. Lucy

_this blaze that burns like wildfire_

* * *

She thought death would be easy, simple, like floating. Like sinking into a bed of clouds. Like falling asleep.

But death feels harsh and rough, like angry hate burning through and carving a circle in her chest with its fire; like a hundred thousand tiny knives piercing her skin.

Faces drift and float above her, and she lifts an arm to touch them, to hold them close and tell them … something. Anything. But her arm refuses to move; it feels like lead, heavy and useless.

The end comes slowly for her. She can feel the fire burn through her without any hope of release from it, because it's her own blood turning traitor against her, becoming a fatal poison that pumps through her bloodstream and turns her skin silver like the stars.

Her world becomes a thin sliver of light that taunts her, peeping through her lashes and seeking her barely open eyes. The only other things she can see are the faces of people she knows, faces that spring free from her imagination and her poisoned heart, given life by the disease.

The tiny light finally gives in to darkness, and she cries out in her mind for it to come back. She doesn't want to be alone when the ends comes – and the end will be soon, she can feel it. She reaches out for him blindly, forcing her heavy arm up so that her hand can stroke his face.

She uses the last of her energy to force her eyes open, murmuring softly to him. "Wait for me," she whispers, because she's selfish and she loves him too much for her last thought to be of him with someone else.

Her arm falls back from his face, and she can feel the poison taking over completely, tugging at her until she's falling through pain and heat and a thousand knives, through the bed of clouds that await below. She keeps falling, the image of her husband and baby girl fixed in her mind, the two faces that appeared the most when she was at her most frail.

She falls, as all angels must do eventually.

* * *

_I really love this little ficlet, and I would adore it if I got some feedback for it - are there things I should change, or parts you loved?_

_If anyone's interested, this story is like a companion to my LucyTeddy, 'Starshine Girl', which is told from Teddy's point of view._

_Please review!_


	9. LouisOC

**a/n **written for the Drabble Tag.

For Evelyn, because you didn't deserve this, beautiful. I love you, my sister.

* * *

_cerulean_

louisevelyn ;; you seem to have a habit of walking into me

* * *

He's noticed her before this, with her glossy black hair and her infamous parent, and the nose that's a little too big for her face. He's noticed her a little too much, really, no matter how many times he tries to protest to himself that it's perfectly natural for him to know about her blue unicorn statue and the freckles in the corners of her eyes.

She's kneeling on the floor, the edge of her skirt tinted black with spilled ink, the ever present cerulean ribbon merging with her locks, as she tries to pick up all her scattered things and put them back in her torn bag. He doesn't exactly know _why_ he's fascinated by her, because they've only spoken on occasion, and he knows her sister better than he knows her, but she's quiet and solemn and a little bit out of place, and there's something in her eyes that draws him to her.

Besides, this is the third time she's run into him this week, and this time he's actually going to say something.

"You seem to have a habit of walking into me," he says to her, and Evelyn looks up, her brown eyes gazing at him calmly. Their eyes meet, and a connection between them is made, raw and fragile and vulnerable. _Stupid, Louis, stupid!_ he chastises himself, because it sounds like he's criticizing her, like he's better than her, and he doesn't want her to think he's arrogant. James is arrogant enough for all the Weasley-Potters.

"Yes, it appears so," she replies, gathering the last of her multitude of quills. She stands without another word and continues serenely down the corridor, leaving behind a confused little Hufflepuff and a puddle of black ink.

The connection breaks.

* * *

Please review! =)


	10. FredOCHugo

**a/n **the eighth drabble for PrincessPearl's 200 Flavourful Prompts Challenge on the NGF

* * *

_shattering fantasies_

blueberry cream ;; fredochugo ;; glory, model, incandescent

* * *

Hugo's always been the ordinary one in the family. He's not too tall or too short, he gets average grades, and his hair is the perfect blend of crimson and brunette.

And until now, he's been perfectly content being ordinary, with his stargazer best friend by his side, a multitude of cousins to protect and be protected by, and the promise of being brilliant at something in the far distant future. But then he meets this girl, see, and she's kind of ordinary too, with her black hair and glasses that frame murky blue eyes, and the pretty smile that hides nothing.

She gets lost in the crowd just like he does, disappearing in the whirlwind that is James-and-Fred-and-Delia, while he becomes invisible beside his cousin Lily, and he feels a kinship to this girl who is so many years older than himself, even though her heart belongs to Fred and never to himself.

He never really speaks to her after they meet, and she becomes perfect in his mind, all stunning eyes like shiny blueberries, and smooth skin the colour of tinted cream. She blazes with glory in his mind's inner eye, like an incandescent candle glowing brightly against the relative darkness, and he finds it oh so hard to sit across from her and Fred in the Great Hall, his thumb brushing over her skin and a blush tinting her cheeks far too often at Fred's surprisingly sweet words.

One of the only times they speak is almost an accident, because although he placed himself close to her in the compartment in an attempt to get her to look at him with those dazzling blue eyes, he really didn't mean to drop his luggage on her foot.

"Ow!" she exclaims, pulling her foot out from underneath the brown, slightly battered suitcase. He bites his lip, looking away from her as if he doesn't know what to say, because he doesn't. _How does one speak to an angel? _he wonders, and makes a mental note to tell Rose that line later. She might like it; it sounds kind of poetic.

She pulls her bag back on her shoulder from where it has been slipping down her arm and walks off, a disgruntled look on her face that seems out of place to him.

"Chloe!" he calls after her, regaining the use of his voice, but she doesn't turn around, still walking slightly funny from the admittedly heavy suitcase being dropped on her toes.

"She just didn't hear you," he tells himself, knowing that it's not really true, because Chloe's always been one to hold an unnecessary grudge over the littlest things. And his imaginings mix with the truth and the lies, and those bright blueberry eyes become dimmer in his mind, because she's not as perfect as he's made her out to be.

And strangely, he's almost okay with his conceptions crumbling to dust, because she's never really belonged to him anyway.


	11. TeddyJames

**a/n: **from the nextgen drabble tag on the NGFs

for lovisa [lowi] because she's amazing, she requested it on the drabble tag, and her reviews make my day =]

note: this drabble contains mentions of slash - that is, two boys with homosexual tendencies in a relationship.

* * *

_a day in the life_

jamesteddy exhausted

* * *

Teddy rolls away from the dark haired boy, completely exhausted. Sweat lines his brow like a second skin, the sheen reflected in the dim lighting.

"Aw, are you tired, love?" the boy says mockingly, brown eyes darting to where Teddy lies slumped on the ground, the ghostly green of a nearby light making him look even more sickly than he actually was.

"We really should have stopped after the third round, because I don't think I'm ever going to find that shirt. It would be really awkward if one of your cousins came along right now," Teddy pants, his voice loud in the near dark. He notices with a sigh that there's dirt mixed with the paint covering his bare torso, and promises that the next time he comes over to the Potter's, he'll bring a spare shirt. Or maybe a whole outfit - just in case.

"Well, I kind of like you this way," James replies, and even though the light weaving through the trees above them is very faint, Teddy is sure that James is at least one of two things - either smirking at him, or incredibly horny. Again.

"I know you do, but let's deal with all that once we kick Fred's arse at paintball, okay?" Teddy replies, revitalised by the idea of this game finally _ending_, because Merlin, he's been playing this game for _hours_, and he'd much rather be in bed with James than getting shot at by said boy's cousins.

"Deal," James says back, and rolls over to be closer to the older boy, who is family in all but blood, and Godric, he's glad they aren't actually related. They kiss swiftly, a giggle nearby interrupting the moment, and they turn their heads at precisely the same moment.

"Lucy and Lorcan?" Teddy asks, and James nods, prompting the turquoise haired boy to groan. "Why are they caught so easily? _Every_ game. I'd rather have a challenge."

"I love it when you get competitive," James teases, and kisses him again, a lingering kiss that says that they have all the time in the world. Somehow, the game doesn't seem so important anymore.

* * *

For more information on the whole Weasley/Potters playing paintball thing, please see _these endless days of summer._ And yes, that was some blatant plugging ;)

Please review! =]


	12. Molly & Lucy II

**a/n: **for the 'My Favourite Character Competition'.

* * *

_giggle_

molly II ;; birth of a younger sibling

* * *

Molly looks at the squirming ball in front of her with wide eyes, one pudgy finger reaching down and jabbing it between the eyes, which are pretty much the only discernable thing on its face.

"Molly, don't do that," Audrey scolds, pushing her daughter's finger away; but her voice is soft and her eyes do not leave the thing's face. She seems entranced by it, though Molly can't see why – it's all ugly and red, like a squashed beetle on a burgundy brick.

"Mummy, what is it?" she asks, and her father starts to answer. Responding to every question asked seems to be ingrained in him, which works out perfectly as Molly likes to ask every question possible.

"It's a baby, Molly. Your baby sister," he says, pushing his bronze-coloured glasses up his nose. The thing – the baby – giggles and then gulps, its pursed mouth grasping for something that isn't there. "Her name is Lucy," Percy continues, a proud beam lighting up his face.

"Luwcy," Molly repeats. She touches her finger to the baby's nose, and Lucy giggles again her eyes shining with something. It feels inevitable to little Molly that she would have a little sister - like fate or destiny, or whatever it is her dad and Aunt Hermione argue about all the time. _She's kind of cute really_, Molly thinks, and exchanges smiles with her parents. _It might be kind of nice having her around._

* * *

Please review! =]


	13. AlbusLucy

**author's note: **from the Drabble Tag on the NGF account, for a prompt that I loved so much that I just had to post it! I've had sections of this waiting around for awhile, with a possible continuation somewhere down the line, so I'd love to hear what you think!

warning: cousincest

* * *

_speak lies into darkness_

albus/lucy ;; fairytale ending

* * *

"Do you love me?" she asks him one afternoon, and his hands freeze at her waist, sliding down from the ribs hidden just below the pale screen of her skin. His throat is tight, unable to push words past the lump in his throat he never expected to be there, because he is suave and charming and always knows what to say, but now he is speechless. She has never asked this much of him before, and he doesn't know how much of himself to give. He can never get it back if he does, and he can't trust anyone with that much of him, not even a girl like her.

He starts to speak, hoarse words that may not have made sense, but she interrupts his lies with a clear voice that cuts his words like soft chocolate. "Don't lie to me," she commands him, eyes coloured like sea glass burning into a pair of dark green ones that hide secrets in their depths, secrets that he has never kept from her, and it's unthinkable for him to lie to her now.

"Not yet," he tells her, drawing her thin frame closer to him, the bones of his hips meshing with hers as they begin a dance they have performed so many times before. "Maybe someday," he whispers into the curve of her ear, before all words are silenced by her kisses and his touches and the sounds that filter through the air in all the moments that follow the first. She finds a second in between kisses to continue their conversation from before, and for ever after he will never be able to decide whether it's a good thing that she does.

"I don't love you either," she murmurs, her voice still painfully clear and clanging like church bells in his ear, and why does it feel like everything is slipping from his fingers? She returns to planting kisses on his skin while he remains still as stone, but maybe she can see the heartbreak in his eyes, because she takes a break from carving marks into his neck with her lips to say three more words. "But maybe someday," she says, and they're both honest to the point of bluntness, but she'll believe in anything and he believes in nothing but her, and she dreams and he crushes dreams and somehow this whole arrangement means a whole lot more to him than it does to her. He kisses her softly, and he wonders if they'll ever have that fairytale ending he never thought of until now.

* * *

**author's note II: **Please review, and please don't favourite without reviewing! =]


	14. AlbusMolly

**a/n **I only just wrote this, really, so I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense, or whatever.

for **Blue** - happy Valentine's, gorgeous

warning: cousincest, heavy sexual implications, run on sentences that are absolutely intentional.

* * *

_listen to the sound of our heartbeats intertwined_

* * *

It's after midnight when he enters your room, and you're so happy to have him seek you out that you don't want to waste precious minutes wondering why.

"Hey," you say, your eyes downcast and you're biting your lip and pretending you're shy, because you read somewhere that this was a genuine seduction tactic. You smile, your gaze flicking to his expressionless face, and you want him to look at you like he looks at the pretty girls that follow in his every footstep, because you've stopped lying to yourself about how much you want him. How much you love him, regardless of the fact that you're technically related and your feelings are every shade of wrong and right and everything in between. "Albus?" you ask, half afraid and half strangled as he finally _looks_ at you, and your breath catches in your throat at the darkness in his eyes.

"Molly," he returns; his voice is hard, fierce, and you can't help responding to it in a way you should be ashamed of but aren't. You take a step towards him, one single involuntary step, and then everything is movement and lust and sound and touch, and you're dying, you're dying.

(You don't ask why now, why you, why not Lucy with her soulful eyes and dancing steps and dreamy ways. You can't bring yourself to hear the answer.)

You wish he'd kiss you, but his hands are moving up from your waist and your skin is hot and your shirt is sliding up over your head until you can't see anything but inky black. You are breathless, his fingertips dancing over your sensitive skin, teasing you until you give up pretending that you don't feel anything. You stretch up to kiss him, your hands fisted tightly in his shirt, but he turns away and presses kisses to your neck instead, and you forget what you were doing in the first place.

("Kissing is intimate," he says, and you don't understand what could be more intimate than this.)

You fall to the ground in a tangled heap, and you aren't sure which fingers are yours or which legs are his as you move together, and you wonder if you're dreaming. He breathes deeply and you sigh, trying to connect your eyes with his, but he looks pointedly away.

(You feel your fantasies fall to pieces along with your heart, but you ignore it because you don't have any other choice if you want to keep from shattering completely.)

He stands up and walks away, his shirt untucked and his hair barely ruffled, and you are breathless, lying on the floor in a crumpled heap because you don't mean anything to him.

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**a/n **Please review! Feedback means a lot, especially because I've never written Albus/Molly before =]


	15. RoseFleur

**a/n **from the drabble tag on the prompts, oh prompts forum

for **Lowi**, because she requested it and I love her.

warning: sexual implications, homosexuality, age gap

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Rose/Fleur ;; breathe me in as i breathe you out

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Their hands twine together, sliding into the niches of each other's hand like they're meant to be there, blending until the skin of one girl is impossible to separate from the other. Rose breathes in deeply, exhaling quietly with a whispering sound that is absorbed by the stifled air of the cupboard.

Everything is movement for them. They rarely speak, save for goodbyes murmured in the darkness and their names, always their names, forever intertwined like spools of knotted ribbon. She knows the flavour of Fleur's lipstick as well as she knows the freckle on the older woman's wrist, a solitary freckle that is completely out of place on the startling beauty; and yet, it is as close to perfect as anything can ever be.

"Cherie," Fleur murmurs, her lips close to Rose's ear, and she knows she has to go. Their stolen moments are just that - stolen - and while she would never want to give up whatever it is they have, when Fleur speaks a certain way or does a certain thing, Rose can't help but be reminded of three people who look exactly like her. Her cousins, who would be devastated if this ever came out, though she's pretty sure Louis would be ecstatic that Rose is no longer with Scorpius. Rose doesn't want to be a home wrecker, a scarlet woman as her dad would say, but whatever is between her and Fleur doesn't need naming, and she never wants to give them up.

Their hands slip from the other's grasp, tenderly, lingering, and it is only when Rose's name is called that she finally turns to leave. Her fingertips brush Fleur's wrist as she opens the door, and that is all the 'i love you's' that they will ever need.

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**a/n2 **Please review, with many thanks! =]


	16. AlbusScorpius

**authors note:** from drabble tag. See the end for notes.

Warnings: slash, infidelity

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i feel you close, i feel you breathe || Scorpius/Albus, hinted Louis/Scorpius

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"Hi," he breathes, looking at the shorter boy with a glazed expression that he really hopes neither Louis or Albus pick up on, because the first is his boyfriend and the other is his entirely secret crush _and_ his best friend, and it would be embarrassing either way.

"Hey," Albus replies casually, throwing a disdainful look at his cousin standing away from the conversation. "Want to get out of here?" he asks shortly, and Scorpius has to stop himself from leaping out of his chair in answer, because he's supposed to be cool and collected and completely uncaring, but it's kind of hard when Albus looks so gorgeous.

"Yeah, alright," he answers, bidding his boyfriend a quick goodbye and taking Albus' hand to Apparate.

(He's not sure whether his shivers are caused by the cold or Albus' skin on his, because who schedules an outdoor reception for the fucking evening?)

The barest of impressions of an alleyway are imprinted onto his eyelids when they arrive wherever Albus has seen fit to take them, but he doesn't have time to adjust to his surroundings before a pair of slender hands pin him to the wall. His eyes click open and lock onto Albus' lips as they descend towards him, keeping the slightest distance between their faces.

(He wonders how Albus would react if he moved a little closer, and maybe if he does this right he'll get to find out if his best friend is as good a kisser as the Hogwarts gossip says.)

"You want me to kiss you, don't you?" Albus asks, and the desire is fierce in his chest as his heartbeat hammers out an almost painful rhythm, and the thought of Louis is fleeting and disappearing and he doesn't even bother trying to catch it. He wants this too much, wants _them_, because once upon a time he was convinced he loved this boy, and right now he's not sure that the feeling ever went away.

"That depends. Are you going to kiss me, or aren't you?" he questions, and hopes that Albus didn't catch the tremor in his voice. The dark-haired boy smiles coquettishly, leaning into his space with no trace of guilt or shame in his expression, and Scorpius thinks privately that Albus hasn't even heard of the word shame. He closes the gap between them and finds Albus meeting him halfway, hands tangling in hair and around slim bodies that are perfect reciprocals of each other, and the air around them is fraught with passion.

(He can't bring himself to feel the guilt he should be feeling.)

(Honestly, he doesn't even try.)

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**a/n** Please review!

And I'm sorry for the heap of Albus in this story - I just have a lot of feels, and most of them come in an Albus-shaped box. So yeah, if there's a particular pairing you would like to see, just tell me in a review/PM and I'll see what I can do :)


	17. PansyTeddy

**authors note:** for my beautiful fiancee (BlueEyes444), because we both fell head over heels for this pairing.

Written for the _Crossgen Bootcamp_ (substitute), _Pairing Diversity Bootcamp_ (picture perfect), and the_ dabble in a drabble competition_ (girlfriend, 314 words).

Warnings: crossgen, swear words, non-explicit mentions of sex, referenced past character death.

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nothing more than sinners || pansy/teddy

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He never intended to use her as a substitute for Dominique, but it's hard to make the right decisions when he's drunker than Harry Potter on the second of May and she looks so much like his ex-girlfriend that he has to look twice to check that the girl currently pressing him to the wall isn't actually her.

"Pansy," she says when she realises he's looking at her, and their eyes connect for half a second before she attacks his neck with her lips. That's what it's like, really - an attack, a bird of prey going in for the kill, deadly and precise and surprisingly adept with her tongue for a lady who on second glance looks like she could be close to his godfather's age.

"Teddy," he responds, breaking off into a gasp when she bites down into his skin, soothing over the pain with her lips. They never exchange anything more than that over the next few weeks, though he learns that she tries to remain as silent as possible and has a thing for being both in public and in charge. He also learns that he has no problem with either of those things, at all, and that she looks less and less like his dead girlfriend the more he fucks her. Dominique was never silent.

They're never anything more than lovers, and not the sweet, star-crossed-or-otherwise-not-allowed-to-be-official kind of lovers; they're just two people trying to push away the pain, taking refuge in soft skin and the feeling that comes from finding someone else as broken up inside as you are. He never calls her girlfriend, she never calls him honey, and they never intend to, but sometimes he looks at the blonde woman in his bed and wishes that all those teen romance novels had never lied to him.

There's no fairytale romance hiding behind the horizon, no lovers turned forever after waiting in their future, but they respect each other enough that sometimes it's easy to pretend that they really do have it all. They're nothing close to picture perfect, not at all, but who needs perfect anyway?

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**a/n** Please review - I would adore some more feedback for my drabbles. I tend to think that they suck and bite my nails, which is gross, so will you please review? For my nails? ;)


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